New Hampshire primary a learning experience for children

Thursday, January 19, 2012

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The constant ringing of our telephone has finally come to a welcome end. Being on the National Do Not Call Registry normally serves its purpose quite well, but not during the presidential primaries in New Hampshire. Political calls are unfortunately exempt from those rules, as they are excused from so many other rules and common courtesies.

The mass exodus of all the reporters, political supporters and signs is like the tsunami tide finally receding. It always makes me smile, listening to the talk radio hosts’ warped perception of New Hampshire residents. I imagine that folks in other parts of the country picture us as gun-toting, flannel-clad renegades. Of course, I really don’t mind, as it helps us keep our corner of the universe protected and serene. “Live Free or Die” has served us well.

In early December, I was honored, and I would take the time to voice my opinions. As we inched closer to Christmas, I had passed on the duty to my children. I would let them answer the phone and do as they wished. The older children actually would listen to the messages and try incessantly to get those recorded voices to respond to them. When the occasional live person would appear on the line, I would happily hand off the receiver to my 2-year-old, who would babble endlessly. I felt confident that her words were equally as important as the message from the pollster. Quid pro quo at its finest.

One particular evening, the same 800 number kept calling over and over. Finally, in desperation, I answered, only to learn that it was a vendor letting me know a certain gift I had ordered was no longer available. My exasperation toward the election process only grew. How appropriate that a politician almost sabotaged our magical Christmas morning.

My 9-year-old can list every single viable candidate, as well as their primary platforms. Her most astute observation was that all spent too much time talking negatively about each other. She honestly could not understand why they did not just focus on their own positive messages. If only they would learn that we Americans care more about what they are going to do than rehashing what others have done in the past. So many broken promises tend to taint even the most innocent perspective.

My 6-year-old recently asked me who the new president will be. I explained that we will not know for almost a year, and then I asked him who he thought it would be. Of course, having a dad named Paul is his only compelling criteria. “Commander in Chief President Paul,” he proudly stated. Which reminds me that my husband’s birthday is just a few weeks away. … I am thinking he might appreciate a T-shirt that says simply President Paul. Then I realized with a bit of trepidation what four years of that might be like. I secretly have to wonder if this is perhaps part of his motivation for supporting Ron Paul.

Our oldest was able to vote this year. She was thrilled at the opportunity to be a part of this process. She asked many questions in the weeks leading up to the primary, and she watched parts of the debates as well. The night of the election, we rode together, and I waited for her as she registered and then cast her first official ballot. The smile on her face was magical.

On our way home, we discussed how many unknown and unexpected names were actually on the ballot. I wondered out loud what exactly is necessary to be considered a viable candidate. After a few moments of silence, she anxiously questioned me, “Well, aren’t you going to ask me who I voted for?” I took the bait. “So who did you vote for?”

Exasperated, she declared, “What? I’m not going to tell you!” I smiled, relieved in a way. Democracy at its best.